not his type
by xakemii
Summary: Dean has a type. He's not ashamed to admit it. He just really, really likes pretty girls.


Written for Amber (Cheeky Slytherin Lass) on the Gift-Giving Extravaganza 2013.

* * *

Dean has a type.

He's fancied Ginny. Long red hair. Stunning body. Great arse. What wasn't to like? He's fancied Lavender. Blonde curls. Pouty lips. If she kept her mouth shut, you really can't fault her. He's fancied Parvati. And Padma, for a while. With flawless skin like that, who could blame him? Morag, who has the prettiest eyes in all of Ravenclaw. Cho, who's exotic and stunning in every way. Hannah, who's freckles he'd wanted to kiss all day long.

"Always the pretty ones," Seamus snickers, rolling his eyes. "It's a wonder anyone's willing to date someone as shallow as you."

Dean shrugs. "This one's different."

They always are.

And so he makes his way through a few more innocent crushes. There's Susan, with fingers made for music. There's Angelina, who has legs for days. Then there's Faye and Katie and Daphne.

It's not his fault, really. He can't help it. They're all just so very pretty.

When he tells Seamus about Lisa, the latest girl to catch his eye, he's all infatuated smiles and bright eyes.

"I thought you went for the pretty ones," Seamus replies, frowning. When Dean tells him that she's the prettiest thing he's ever seen, Seamus says, "Oh. Alright. It's just...she's a bit...y'know?"

Dean punches him in the face.

They don't speak about Lisa again and soon enough, Dean moves on.

Parvati (again). Su. Astoria. Ginny (again). Alicia. Ginny (again).

They're all very pretty—just the way he likes it.

He's in a bit of a slump when he has his first proper conversation with Luna Lovegood. Ginny's properly infatuated with Harry fucking Potter. Parvati's upset because it looks like Harry might actually like Ginny back and it turns out Lisa prefers the company of the fairer sex. In all honesty, Dean's completely off his game.

"Granger says you talk a lot of crap," Dean says.

His lack of subtlety (and manners in general) is another reason why Seamus refuses to believe that anyone in their right mind would date Dean.

"Hermione's very practical," Luna replies, seemingly unbothered. "It's not her fault she doesn't understand."

He scoffs. Even he's not afraid to admit that Hermione's the cleverest thing to grace the Wizarding World. Surely it's Luna who's confused, not her.

She continues to chat and Dean stops listening. He doesn't to hear about Wrackle-what's-its and whatever other rubbish it is that she's always going on about. He doesn't bother to hum or nod...or even try to pretend that he is listening. Instead, he just looks.

It takes him a few moments to realise that she's sort of pretty.

She has nice hair. It's blonde, wavy and long. She's wearing a pink ribbon. It looks nice on her, he notes.

Her eyes are nice, too. Whispers in the hallways tell him that her eyes look crazed enough to put her in Azkaban, but he doesn't see it. They're blue. Not blue like the sky or blue like the sea. Just blue. A nice blue, he must admit, but just blue. He thinks that if he looks long enough (not that he would), he'd find them calming.

He skims her body. Not bad. Not as good as Ginny's, but not bad.

Snapping his gaze back to her face, he forces a smile.

"You're pretty," he says, interrupting her mid-sentence and grinning when she smiles at him. Then, when it becomes apparent that she's finally decided to shut up, he continues, "Not pretty like Ginny or Cho, mind you. But you are pretty."

"But no one's quite like Ginny, are they?" Luna replies, still smiling.

"I guess not," he mutters.

Dean hurries away after that. He doesn't need to hear about how it's stupid for him to still be hung up on Ginny. He gets enough of that from Seamus, for goodness sake.

He spends the night doodling in the margins of his Transfiguration essay. He doodles as he always does—pretty girls with pretty faces. He gets lost in it and it's only when Seamus places his hand on his shoulder that he realises that two hours have passed.

"Luna Lovegood, eh?" Seamus asks, gesturing towards the parchment. He cocks his head to the side and then hums. "I didn't think she was your type, but I guess it's better than you moping about Ginny."

Dean blinks. Then blinks again.

He's used to seeing Ginny staring back at him, but this time, he sees Luna. It's Luna bordering the parchment, not Ginny. He grunts, throws his pencil to the side and says, "I don't fancy her."

Seamus scoffs. "'Course not."

Then Dean frowns. "And what d'you mean she's not my type?"

"She's just not that..." he trails off. "Well, she's not pretty like Ginny, is she?"

He'd like to fight back—say that she _is_ pretty like Ginny—but just two hours ago it'd been him telling _her_ that she isn't pretty like Ginny, so he doesn't say a word. Instead, he just looks at the drawings on the page and shrugs.

"Anyway, mate," Seamus says, "it's good to see you getting over Ginny."

Getting over Ginny with Loony Luna Lovegood? The idea is laughable. As if Luna could ever compare to the likes of Ginny. Sure, they're friends, Dean knows that much, but they're not exactly _alike_, are they? Certainly not in looks, at any rate. At least, that's what Dean tells himself.

After all, Dean has a type.

He likes girls like Ginny and Cho and Parvati. Fun girls, he likes. Popular girls. Girls who are pretty in everyone's eyes and who can have a conversation without bringing up creatures that don't exist.

He doesn't like girls like Luna. Loony, loony Luna, who's too crazy for her own good and only pretty if you stare too hard for too long. Really, Luna just isn't his type.

...is she?


End file.
